


I trusted you

by The_Bubble_Gentleman



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: I travled to a dark place in my mind and this is what happened, Let's just see what response this gets, M/M, No Consent, Possessive Behavior, Rape, Snapple bitch can get dark yo, i mean like, i might continue this, sad ending maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 11:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11691114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bubble_Gentleman/pseuds/The_Bubble_Gentleman
Summary: Tord does something terrible due to personal problemsand Tom is in the line of fire





	I trusted you

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah yeah I know I'll go work on 'my angel'

There are times where I like to just

Float above my body

Away from this painful and terrible existence that is life.

Like now.

Like now, when he's pounding into me hard and fast, kissing and licking my neck. It's horrible. My heart has dropped and everything feels dull and numb. The colors in the room seem to fade away with each thrust, with each slapping of skin against skin. With every moan he gave and shuddering breath he took, it only threw my mind further away from my body.

It's dark, it's depressing, but damn it if it's not reality.

He had come into my room. Those eyes were clouded with something dark, dirty, and sinful. A warning for the trauma about to occur. A warning I took no heed to.

I hadn't seen it coming, and there was nothing I could've done to stop it.

He had pushed me down, pinning to my bed. I had never felt more uncomfortable and afraid in my bed. My bed is supposed to be refueling and refreshing, comfortable and warm. A place to go when I was sad, or feeling any intense emotion, really.

It was not a place for him to hold my arms above my head as he slid a hand under my shirt.

"T-Tord, stop it! Please, stop..."

He had only leaned down and trailed a long, wet, hot tongue up my neck and to my ear.

"Stop being such a fucking tease." He mumbled. "You sweet little _slut_..."

His hand was tweaking my at my chest, eliciting gasps and more trembles from my body. It was no use, of course. He towered above me in more ways than one, and he held me down with his strong arms with ease.

He hadn't let me go, and he wasn't going to. My shirt found its way off, as did his. My legs had found their way forced apart and spread, open and wide and vulnerable, with his grinding hips between.

"S-Stop, please Tord don't do this.."

He had snapped his eyes opened and gave me a look that showed what little hope there is for me.

"You don't have authority over me." He had purred, with a voice of liquid dominance. "Never have, never fucking will." He grabbed my chin and tipped it upwards to meet his gaze. "You, my dear, are all fucking mine."

I realized at that point that all I could do was shut my mouth and eyes and just bear with it. Tord is stronger than me in all ways. As depressing as it may sound, I have no chance. No sudden burst of strength, no supposed higher power, nothing. This is reality. Hell, I deserve this, don't I? No faith, no belief in anything good.

So I had just let myself go limp and let him have at me.

Which is where I am now. But I'm not really there. I imagine somewhere with no one. No one to hurt, no one who hurts, just no one. Solitude and isolation. With a glowing light to illuminate my lonely existence. I'm there, and it's wonderful.

But there are moments when I feel the stretching, the burning, the horrible and unwelcome pleasure. Those times are when I am faced with the torture that is living. Where he won't stop spewing those words and he won't stop touching me.

It is then that I remember times when he wasn't doing this. When I would be sad and alone and he would come in to comfort me. He would be the strong arms and warm heart and soothing words that made me feel so happy. He'd be someone I could go to when I was sad. I remember when he would cuddle with me and say things that made me feel so good.

But that wasn't what he wanted.

He apparently wants more. He loves me, he continues to say. He wants me to stop flirting with everyone else, and stop sleeping with them. He wants me to himself. I am his, and no one can take me from him, he whispers in my ear. He can't take it, and he'll kill me if I dare even _think_ of being with someone else.

I believe him.

He says that I flaunt myself and laugh like I do only to tease him and lead him on. That I smile at him and hug him and give him affection because I want him as well, I just don't know it yet. I want to think of when I ever tried to lead him on, but I can't think. I don't speak. I'm scared. I'm terrified of a person I thought I could trust.

He says I wear those tiny shorts only to get him hard, that I moan loud with other people only to let him hear me. He says that this is my fault and it's been a long time coming. Don't you dare cry. And I don't.

He's touching my dick. He's stoking it back and forth with every thrust. He says that he can give me this every night. To make love to me and fuck me whenever I want. He can love me and worship me and give me anything I want, just like I deserve. Because I deserve everything and anything. And I especially deserve this, he tells me.

I feel the horrible sensation that I usually so utterly desire.

He begs me to say that I love him too, that I want him and need him and that it feels so fucking good.

I don't.

He is kissing me and squeezing my wrists. I squint my eyes as I get ready for what's about to happen. I feel his soft kisses on my cheeks.

"I love you, Thomas." He whispers.

I don't say anything back.

His thrusts are getting uneven and it's clear what he's about to do. His breathing is labored and heavy and he looks at me with a tender and loving face. It makes me believe that it's the Tord I always knew. It sends me to a time when this wasn't happening.

But then he lets out a shuddering moan. And I feel his dick pulse inside me, hot liquid spilling into me. The way with how he's stroking my dick, the feeling pooling in my abdomen only increased.

I tried to not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cum. I tried to think of terrible things to only distract myself, but nothing can compare to this. I only find myself getting closer and closer.

He had rested his head by my ear, catching his breath. He was saying how he wished I would say something, how he hoped I would let out a sound. I bit my lip and kept my eyes shut. I held back any sounds when I had cum. Only a small whimper had escaped, which unfortunately satisfied him.

The feelings that were supposedly oh so heavenly to experience during orgasm were heavily tinted in anger and hurt and depression. He was kissing my neck, lapping at the bruises and marks he had left.

"Say something, please."

I refused, and only opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling.

"Please, say anything."

He looked generally sad and upset that I wasn't leaping into his arms with happiness. How troubling.

"Please don't hate me. I-I didn't mean it."

I closed my eyes and decided to answer him.

"Get out."

  
•••

**Author's Note:**

> I dont know if I should continue this or just leave it like this mess I dunno comment or whatever


End file.
